


Moth's Word

by Harlow (Damien)



Series: Twin Vale Apartments [10]
Category: Working at an Amusement Park - Girl_from_the_crypt
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twin Vale Apartments, Dale was the first person I could think of to be a client tbh, Inspired by a /r/dirtywritingprompt, M/M, The Mime | Moth is a stripper (Working at an Amusement Park), Uneditted as per the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien/pseuds/Harlow
Summary: Like everyone else, Moth is affected by the magic that is interwoven into every conversation, where every person has a single word that turns them on. Some people are lucky, and theirs is rare. Some people never even learn theirs. Moth isn't so lucky. His word is "the".
Relationships: Dale/The Mime | Moth (Working at an Amusement Park)
Series: Twin Vale Apartments [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707454
Kudos: 3





	Moth's Word

**Author's Note:**

> This would be the first in the TVA series, chronologically.

Moth adjusted his headphones, keeping his eyes to the ground as he waited for the bus. Even just accidentally reading someone’s lips could be enough to activate the latent magic, and getting hard wasn’t exactly productive to him getting to work without being sexually harassed. He hummed under his breath, tapping his nails on the back of his phone case.

When he felt the rumble of the bus coming, he looked up, keeping his eyes moving and avoiding looking at the mouth of anyone near him. He stepped to be toward the front, and with his height, people slid in behind him. He went to push his bus pass in, only to notice the sign on top of it and slide down his headphones. The bus driver aggressively tapped his finger on it, grunting out “Read the damn sign. Maybe if you weren’t the kind of asshole that wears headphones when they get on, you’d have heard me say the same thing. The reader’s out of order, so the fare’s cash only.” Each time his Word was said, Moth’s cock twitched with interest, the man’s mouth glowing blue for a split second each time.

Moth dug out his wallet, pushing in the bill and change before pulling out the transfer pass, muttering “Thanks,” before pulling his headphones back up. He stood by the back door, putting his wallet back. He kept his eyes averted from the crowd, watching the city whip past as he waited for his stop to come up. He used his appearance, long hair with a shave side, black lipstick, lanky and aloof at best, future serial killer at worst, to keep people from trying to get his attention. Sure, at work, it wasn’t really an issue, but it had been previously.

When Moth worked retail, a wide eyed, innocent 15 year old with a squeaky voice and enough anxiety to give a moose’s entire family tree heart attacks, it was a little traumatic. When you’re a teenager, getting hard every time someone says one of the most common words in the English language to you is horrifying. He made it about a month before he got multiple complaints, and he was fired without ceremony. His boss felt bad, sure, but the last thing the business needed was claims that they let a sexual harasser stay employed because they felt bad for him. Getting hard during interviews for fast food and just about anything else he could apply for went about the way you’d expect, while his interview skills were fine, him squirming with a rock hard cock didn’t endear him to potential bosses.

Over time, he lost his sense of shame. Getting hard at funerals, weddings, cousin’s parties, he couldn’t help it. The only way to avoid it was to tell people to avoid the word “the” and that was about as likely as him winning the lottery and removing his drive to get a job entirely. He kept applying, trying to get any kind of work, but years ticked by with only rejection. His parents even tried to get him a job, using their resources, but they knew how common his Word was, and they weren’t surprised when he still wasn’t hired.

On his 18th birthday, he wore his tightest jeans, some band tee for a group that probably wasn’t even together anymore, and pulled his biggest hoodie on, flipping its hood up to hide his face. His parents were well respected where he grew up, and it’d probably hurt their reputation even more if people recognized him. He’d started as a waiter in the brand new gay club that’d opened the next town over, and the customers loved seeing his Word work on him. They’d make up every excuse to say it to him, leaving him panting and glassy-eyed as he tried to force his cock to relax. He was given breaks, but he spent most of them just focused on trying to relax. He’d never be able to stop from feeling horny when his Word was used, that was how it worked for everyone, but he managed to start ignoring the brain fog, to some degree.

He started moonlighting at the strip club, wearing what was really little more than a pair of boxer briefs and a fishnet top with his high top sneakers. The pink color glowed under the club lights, and with each new piercing, he added more tiny lights on his body. While he had multiple tattoos in black ink, the otherwise invisible UV ink ones stood out at the club. Nobody seemed to mind the feminine look his long hair gave him, or the way his tiny ass looked in the skintight shorts, but when he was requested to serve, not just tend the bar, he spent a good few minutes, biting his lip. It was nervewracking to think about it, but he agreed to it. When he’d turned 21, he started working at the strip club full time, and thinking about it made him chuckle to himself. He’d been worried about backlash, but his parents were just glad that he was working.

When the bus doors opened, he hopped out, heading straight to the club. The bass was so heavy that he could feel it through his sneakers, and he let his headphones fall around his neck. He wove through the people standing around, heading straight to the back. His boss met him there, leaning against a wall as he waited. “Nice to see the star show up,” he said, snorting. “I’m just fuckin’ with you. Schedule’s over there for next week,” he paused, thinking carefully about his words. “Virgo’s off today, kid who works with you normally?” He started talking faster, watching Moth as he turned off his phone and chucked it into his locker. “That’s the third strike the kids gotten, he’s gonna have to find another club. We’re not a charity, and the least he could’ve done was call or apologize after the fact.”

Moth stopped, growling deep in his throat. “Are you fucking with me right now,or was that an accident?” he asked, yanking his shorts up. He stuffed his cock in, the bulge obvious and almost obnoxiously so.

His boss waved his hand, rolling his eyes. “No, it’s just annoying to word police myself. It’s not my fault your Word is… so common.” he patted Moth on the arm, walking out of the back and toward the front. Moth flexed his toes, stretching as he mentally prepared himself for the blasts of blue light and horniness that were sure to follow.

——

He perched in a client’s lap in a private room, the bulge in his shorts twitching as Dale spoke to him. It was just stream of consciousness rambling, anything to say Moth’s Word. Moth was panting loudly, his heart pounding in his chest so hard that he was surprised it wasn’t visible, and he whined when Dale pulled his hair, making him stop arching like he wanted to cover himself up. “Now, now, pretty boy. The point of the the money the client spends is that the good boy the client is getting the services from lets the client see him, right? Isn’t that the point?”

Moth made a pathetic, keening sound, and Dale chuckled a little. “The more you whine, the more I want to say the word ‘the,’” He slid his other hand up Moth’s thigh, squeezing his hip and pulling Moth closer. “The only reason I’m using the Word so much is for you. The second you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Moth blinked his mascara coated lashes, glittering with unshed tears. “I can’t cum just from my Word, you’re not the first to try.” He swallowed audibly, sniffling a little. “It feels like my cock’s about to literally fucking explode from the pressure.” He avoided grinding on Dale’s lap, his nails digging into his shoulders instead. “If you touched it, though,” he mumbled, not really wanting to be heard. He’d always been so comfortable and confident, and seeing him on the verge of crying from not being able to cum on his own was delicious.

Dale pulled his hair again, getting Moth to arch his back. He just repeated the word over and over, Moth’s vision going entirely blue. Dale squeezed his hip hard, probably leaving little bruises, and Moth whined. He could feel every nerve in his body screaming, on the verge of orgasm but denied by whatever magic. When Dale shifted to rotating through languages, though, Moth’s back arched without his thought, tears rolling down his face as he came hard, absolutely sobbing with relief. His body sagged as he finished, unable to hold himself up. Dale released his hair, holding him by the lower back and between his shoulder blades. “Good boy,” Dale whispered, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Moth. I’m proud.”

Moth wiped his face with a shaky hand, trying not to laugh. “Apparently I need to go to South America,” he let out a long breath, it catching in his throat a few times as his body still shook. “Fuck, that was amazing. I could kiss you right now.”

Dale shook his head, snorting. “Pass, I’ve already got to get your cum out of my pants, I don’t need your lipstick on me."


End file.
